Shoot to Kill
by Anubis Monori
Summary: After a young boy is murdered, the defense gives an unusual explanation.
1. Law

The following story is fictional and does not depict any actual person or event.

In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate but equally important groups: the police, who investigate crime; and the district attorneys, who prosecute the offenders. These are their stories.

_oOoOo_

"911, what is your emergency?"

"Oh my God, someone's trying to break into my house!"

"Sir, please calm down. What is your name?"

"Michael… Michael Johnston… God, please send someone!"

"Sir, sir, how old are you?"

"Tw-twelve." The operator heard the sound of glass breaking. "He's inside, please,  
send-" At this point, she heard a scream, and then the phone was silent.

"Sir…? Michael?"

_oOoOo_

Edward Green turned to Leonard Briscoe as the older man stepped under the crime scene tape. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, you know how it is, getting a late start, traffic, trying to convince your daughter to spend more than an hour with you on her birthday." They walked into the kitchen, where a woman from the crime scene unit was squatting over the body. "What have we got?" Lennie asked.

"Caucasian male with a gunshot wound to the chest. He bled out." The woman looked down at the body. "He looks to be in his early teens… poor kid." Ed added, "The operator from 911 said his name was Michael Johnston."

Lennie took a moment, lost in thought, before asking, "What else?"

She answered, "Well, it seems like the entire struggle took place right here. One shot to the phone, probably before he was killed. The silverware drawer is open; it looks like the only thing missing is the knife that's by his side. And look up. There's another bullet hole in the ceiling; we retrieved that one. I think it's a 9mm, but it's too beat up to tell. I'd bet the one in our victim is the same." Just then they heard a woman scream. All three looked to the front door, where two cops were trying to keep the woman from breaking through the tape. Lennie shook his head. "I hate this part of the job."

They walked over to the woman, who was in hysterics. "That's my son! Let me inside! I need to get to him!"

Ed tried to pull her away from the door. "Mrs. Johnston, right now we need to ask you some questions." They finally sat her down on a chair on her porch. She put her head in her hands to cover the tears. "Why was your son home today?" Ed asked.

"He said he was feeling sick. I made sure he didn't have any tests or projects due, and he arranged for a friend to pick up his missed work. I never should have let him stay home…"

"How was your son doing in school? Were any kids pushing him around?"

"He wasn't the most popular guy in school, but I find it hard to believe anyone would want to kill him!"

"I'm sorry to ask," Lennie began, "but do you own a gun?"

"No! The worst we have in my home is a set of antique knives Michael got for his birthday. And they are always in a locked case."

"Well, do you have any enemies? Anyone who would want to hurt you or your family?"

"I sit in front of a computer all day. What, would someone want my job?" she added sarcastically.

"What about your husband?"

"Ex-husband," She corrected. "…Ugh, don't make me think about that man. He's disgusting, but… he wouldn't do this to Michael."

"Do you know where he lives right now?" Ed asked.

"No idea. Bastard hasn't seen his son in months."

Ed simply said, "Alright, this man will take your full statement." He gestured to another cop.

"Detectives!" Another police officer was helping an old woman cross the street. "This woman saw the getaway car."

"Yes, I saw a white car pull out of the driveway just as ER was finishing. It was noon, and I wanted to get a sandwich before Judging Amy."

"Did you hear anything?" Lennie asked.

"I usually have my hearing aid turned down, just high enough to listen to my shows. It's funny, I hate having to listen to the cars whiz up and down this road."

"Is that all you could tell? It was a white car?"

"Please, I can't tell two different models of cars apart. My husband was the auto mechanic. Though I did catch the first two letters of the license plate: IK. I remember because my girlfriend's name is Ilene Kary. Our daughters take us out to breakfast every Saturday."

Lennie gave a short smile. "Thank you. If we have any more questions, we'll let you know."

_oOoOo_

"I never like cutting up kids."

"So adults are better, Doc?"

Dr. Elizabeth Rodgers just looked at Lennie. "No, it's better if they're old cops." Lennie chuckled. "What have we got?" Ed asked.

"Well, one gunshot, to the right lung. He bled out. There are also some defensive wounds on his hands and arms." The doctor turned and picked up an evidence bag from a counter. "This knife was by his side, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"The knife has two different DNA on it. One from the kid, another unknown. I didn't find any fingerprints, besides the ones from the victim, unfortunately. There's one other thing… gunshot residue. On his hands." Lennie and Ed looked at each other. "Are you sure?" Ed asked.

"Positive. Your victim fired a gun."

_oOoOo_

"_Tw-twelve."_ They all heard the sound of glass breaking. _"He's inside, please, send-"_ At this point, there was a scream, and then silence.

"_Sir…? Michael?"_

"That's the end of the tape," Ed said. "The killer might have shot the phone so the operator couldn't hear anything else. The police were there in ten, fifteen minutes."

Anita Van Buren looked at it thoughtfully. "That doesn't give our shooter very long to kill the kid and escape. How did he get away?"

"Most of the neighbors were at school or work," Ed began. "We talked to an old woman across the street. She had her hearing aid off, but saw a 'white car' speeding away around noon. The call came in at 11:56, so that means the shooter had maybe four minutes."

"What about the gunshot residue?"

"Along with his hands, there was residue on his arms and shirt. It's possible they struggled for the gun and he was shot in the process."

She frowned. "Well, nothing more specific than that on the car?"

"The first two letters on the plate were IK."

"Okay, go check out the kid's school; I'll get someone to look up the license plate."

_oOoOo_

"Please, sit down. I am… was Michael's homeroom teacher." She sat and the detectives followed suit. "I'm not sure what I can do for you."

"We were just wondering what Michael was like here at the school. Did he ever get into trouble?" Ed began.

"No, nothing major. I heard from some teachers he slacked on his homework from time to time, and he did cut classes, but he was never sent to the principal's office."

"Did he ever get any threats from anyone?"

"No, nothing of the sort. He was well-liked around the school."

"What about friends? Was he a popular kid?"

"He wasn't really one of the popular kids, no, but he had a few close friends. Of course, there was one girl he walked to every one of her classes. It was sweet."

_oOoOo_

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "We weren't going out. Everyone assumed that because an eighth grade girl and seventh grade boy hung out, there must be something going on. He was more of a kid brother to me than anything else."

Just then Ed's cell phone rang. As he stepped aside to answer it, Lennie asked, "I'm sure he confided in you. Did he ever have any problems with other students, or even teachers? Someone who might know more about him?"

"Like where he lived? He wasn't friends with everyone, but I can't think of anyone who would want to kill him. Although… he was beaten up by an eighth grader a few months ago. That jerk is out of town now. Michael acts - acted tough all the time, just to try and make sure it doesn't happen again. I knew him; he was all talk. Michael was a sweet kid."

"What about this eighth grader? What happened?"

Jennifer frowned. "He was walking home from school. One of the kids got off on his stop ran at him once the bus was gone. He threw Michael on the ground and wrapped his arms around his throat. He 'asked' Michael for his wallet, and of course he gave it to him. I found out later that guy did it on a dare. And before you ask… that's all I knew. My mom started taking both of us home after that."

Ed hung up the phone and walked over to them. "We got something from the DMV. Thank you for your time."

_oOoOo_

"Is this guy's name really Jonathan Johnston?" Ed nodded. They got out of the car and walked up to his front door. "There's the white car." Ed noticed as he rang the doorbell. A tall man, about 5'11" with short black hair and a moustache opened the door. "Yes, can I help you?"

Lennie held up his badge. "Jon Johnston?"

"Yeah, go ahead and laugh… wait, this is about Mikey, isn't it? What did that bitch tell you now?"

Ed cocked an eyebrow, and Lennie responded, "Your ex-wife?"

"Yeah, Maggie. She blamed it all on me, didn't she?"

"Why would you say that?" Ed asked.

"Well, our divorce didn't exactly go smoothly." Just then, they heard another voice from a different room. "Honey, who is it?" A second man came to the door. He was shorter, but had a stronger build and was clean-shaven. Jonathan turned to him. "It's just the cops. They have a few questions about Mikey."

"Oh, it's so sad. The first I heard about it was on the news…"

"And you're Jonathan's…?" Ed's voice trailed off.

"Life partner? Yup." He nodded happily. "My name's George."

"Detectives, do you have any more questions?" Jon asked impatiently.

"Yeah, one last thing: where were both of you around noon yesterday?"

"What, you think I killed my own son?"

"Jonny, sweetie, they just need to cover their bases. I'm unemployed right now, and Jonny's a manager at Wal-Mart."

"I was there all day. 7:00 to 5:00. Is that it?"

"Yes, thank you for your time," Lennie said as Ed closed his notebook and put it and the pen in his pocket.

"Detectives." They turned to Jonathan. "When you find the guy, let me do the interrogation." As they got in the car, Lennie commented, "There are cases I wish I could take the parents up on their offer."

_oOoOo_

Ed and Lennie walked into the Wal-Mart. As usual, it was busy, with customers and workers going in every different direction. They finally found a manager. "Mr. Gordon?"

"Yes, how may I help you?"

"We just have a few questions about Jonathan Johnston."

"His son, Michael, right? That's so sad."

"Jon was working yesterday?"

"Yes. Jon doesn't really have a set schedule, but he puts in his forty hours, and sometimes overtime."

"What was Jon's schedule?"

"He came in at seven in the morning, and his shift ended at five."

"And he was here the whole day?"

"Yup. Never even steps out for a smoke break with some of us. And he only takes forty-five minutes for lunch instead of the hour."

"When did he take his break yesterday?"

"11:45. Sure enough, he was back by 12:30."

_oOoOo_

Lennie practically threw Jonathan into the chair in the interrogation room. "You lied to us, Jonny."

"What the hell are you talking about? I was at work all day! I'm sure you asked my co-workers!"

"All day except that time you took for lunch. Right at the time when Michael was murdered!"

"Looks like you get to be in the interrogation with our suspect after all," Ed added.

"How can you think I killed Michael? That's sick! He's my own son! What kind of motive would I have?"

"We have a witness that saw you at the house at the time of the murder!" Lennie snapped back.

Jonathan paused. "Look, let me explain that. I found out that he was feeling sick, and I wanted to check on him."

"So, just like that. Out of the blue?" Ed asked.

"Yeah, out of the blue," Jonathan angrily replied. "And when I got to the house, there was a motorcycle in the driveway. I figured someone was with him, so I didn't want to bother them. The license plate was too small; I couldn't make out the letters."

"Oh, yeah. And what color was the motorcycle?"

"It was black, green flames on the side. I figured Maggie had a new boyfriend or something. Look, I loved my son! There's no way I would hurt him!"

"You know what Lennie, he's right. There is one way to clear all this up."

"Yeah, it'll be easy."

"What? I'll do whatever it takes."

"Then you wouldn't mind giving us a sample of your DNA."

Jonathan rolled up his sleeve. "Fine. Take as much as you need."

_oOoOo_

The two detectives walked into Anita's office, closing the door behind them. "Well?" she asked.

"The DNA wasn't a match. Which means we've run out of leads," Ed answered.

"It's sad. If he had taken the time to walk into the house, he could have saved his kid," said Lennie.

"Or we would have another victim." Anita cut in. "Well, go back to the school and start asking around. There has to be something there we missed."

Lennie sighed. "Great. Needle in a haystack."

Just then Anita's phone rang. She picked it up. "Yes? Hang on a minute guys… okay, they'll be right over." She hung up the phone. "Ballistics wants you."

_oOoOo_

"I was wondering why we hadn't been called earlier," Lennie said.

"There wasn't anything to report earlier. The bullet that killed him was a 9mm. The other ones were too disfigured to match to anything. Then we got this." The technician held up a casing.

"Then? Did you have to go back?"

"Actually, the mother found it in her trash can." Ed raised an eyebrow. "Apparently, the killer buried it in her trash. She went to take out the garbage and the bag broke. She found it cleaning up.

"Anyway," the tech continued, "The casing is from a 9mm. I found a print and decided to go ahead and check the database." He tapped some buttons on his computer and a screen came up. It had a picture of the fingerprint and the man it belonged to. "Peter Franklin. He was arrested at the age of nineteen for armed robbery. Apparently he and a couple of friends decided to hold up jewelry store. Since it was his first offense and he agreed to testify against the others, he got probation and community service."

"Someone was feeling generous," Ed commented. "Is there a current address?"

_oOoOo_

"303… 302… 301, here it is." Ed knocked on the door. After a moment, the door opened just a bit. "What?"

"Peter Franklin?"

"Who's asking?"

"The police." Peter turned and started running. Ed kicked in the door in time to see him turn the corner. He chased after him. Just before he could climb through a window, Ed grabbed Peter and threw him onto a bed. "Why did you run?"

"I…I wasn't running. I was going to turn off the faucet. You guys chased me!"

"Hey, don't worry, I'll do it for you." Ed handcuffed Peter while Lennie went into the bathroom. The sound of running water faded. Ed noticed a ring on Peter's finger. "That's a nice ring. Where'd you get it?"

"My ex-girlfriend gave it to me."

"Hey Ed." Lennie walked out, holding a gun. "9mm."

"You know, that brand of toilet paper is a bit rough." Ed pushed Peter out the door.

_oOoOo_

Ed closed the door behind Ms. Johnston. "Thank you for coming in."

"Of course. What do you need?"

He pulled out a ring and showed it to her. "We found this on our suspect. Do you recognize it?"

Ms. Johnston gasped. "Th-That's my wedding ring! When can I get it back?"

Ed nodded. "As soon as we finish our investigation."

_oOoOo_

Lennie sat in a chair next to Peter. "That's a pretty nasty cut, there," he said, referring to Peter's arm. It was bandaged up.

"It was a motorbike accident."

"Sure. And where'd you get the gun?"

"A pawn shop. I forget the name. I got the permit at home."

"Look, ballistics has the gun right now. They're comparing it to the bullet we found."

Peter leaned back in his chair. "Found where?"

"Inside of the boy you murdered in his own home!"

"I never been there."

"Funny, how I haven't told you where it is."

Just then, Ed opened the door. "Bad news, Peter. Your 'ex-girlfriend's' ring has been identified. It belongs to the victim's mother. Want to talk now?"

"… I ain't telling you a thing. I want a lawyer."

"Oh, come on, Pete. A lawyer comes in, and we can't help you."

"Shove your help. I'm not saying another word."

"Okay, have it your way." Peter didn't respond, so Lennie and Ed got up and walked out of the interrogation room. Anita was on the other side. "You'd think with the evidence, he'd jump at the chance to confess," Lennie said.

"If only it was that easy," she replied. The door opened and a woman walked in holding a piece of paper. She gave it to Anita and left. "Thank you…. well, we won't need his confession after all. His gun matches the one used to kill Michael Johnston. Arrest him."

Peter looked up as Lennie opened the door. "I told you, I want a lawyer!"

"You're going to need one," Anita replied. "Peter Franklin, you're under arrest for the murder of Michael Johnston. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to an attorney…"


	2. Order

"Case number 659825, People vs. Peter Franklin. Charges are Armed Robbery, Murder in the Second Degree."

"How does your client plead?"

Peter's lawyer whispered into his ear, and Peter said, "Not guilty."

"People on bail?"

"The People request remand," Abigail Carmichael said flatly.

"That's insane. My client has numerous ties to the community; he is no flight risk. He owns a small convenience store, his parents live in the city; he has family here."

"And another family no longer has a son to support because your client shot him in the chest. Bullets from his gun matched those found in the victim, and his blood was at the crime scene."

"Which is something to use at trial. The only thing at issue here is whether or not my client will stay in the jurisdiction!"

"Why? So he can kill another boy?"

"Counselors, please. Bail is set at one million dollars, cash or bond. Next case."

As Abbie packed up her things, Peter's lawyer came up to her and offered his hand. "Lawrence Nolan." Abbie just looked at him. He smiled and withdrew his hand. "Well, nice job, but we aren't at trial yet. Here are my motions to suppress the gun and the knife."

_oOoOo_

Thomas Waters sat behind his desk. "Whenever the prosecution has strong evidence of the defendant's guilt, I always get to hear the motions."

"Your Honor-" Larry began.

"Yes, yes," the judge replied flippantly. "What have you got, Mr. Nolan?"

"The police performed an illegal search which led to the discovery of the 9mm weapon."

"Mr. McCoy?"

Jack McCoy was quick to respond. "The detectives had come to Mr. Franklin's house to question him. He tried to escape, so they restrained him. On the way out, Mr. Franklin mentioned that his faucet was running, and Detective Briscoe went to turn it off. He found the gun in the bathroom."

"First of all, Detective Briscoe 'volunteered' to turn it off. Secondly, the gun was not in plain sight. My client held it in the cupboard behind the mirror."

Waters frowned. "Did the detectives have a search warrant?"

Jack paused. "No, Your Honor."

"Then I have no choice but to suppress it."

Larry grinned. "Thank you, Your Honor. The detectives arrested my client solely because of this illegal search. Without the search, they wouldn't have had any evidence, therefore they wouldn't have arrested him, therefore they wouldn't have gotten his DNA, so they couldn't match it to the knife."

"Your Honor, that was not the only evidence against Mr. Franklin. He had a ring on his person when he was brought in to be questioned. The victim's mother identified it as her wedding ring." Abbie handed Jack a piece of paper, which he checked and gave to the judge before continuing. "There was also vehicle, a motorcycle, parked in the victim's driveway at the time of the murder, which didn't belong to anyone in his family. Our witness positively identified the defendant's motorcycle as the same one he saw before."

"This witness admitted he couldn't make out the license plate, so all he can say is that he saw a black motorcycle."

"A black motorcycle with green flames on each side."

"Sorry Mr. Nolan, I can't say that I've seen too many black motorcycles with green flames."

"Your Honor, there is no way-"

"Just stop talking. I'm going to allow the knife. If there's nothing else…" Waters stood, "…I'll see you at trial."

_oOoOo_

Adam Schiff shook his head. "So we argue that he killed the boy, and we have a bloody knife, but that wasn't the murder weapon."

"Have faith, Adam. The knife was next to him, he bled out, the jury can make their own conclusion. It was a killing during a robbery, this should be clear cut."

"Let's hope Mr. Nolan feels the same way. See if you can get a deal."

Abbie opened the door and walked in, holding a piece of paper. "The Johnston case. You'll love this one, Jack."

Jack looked at it in disbelief.

_oOoOo_

"Your Honor, this is absurd. The victim was twelve years old, there's no way the defendant could plead self-defense."

"I get to decide that, Mr. McCoy. Mr. Nolan?"

"I can show that Michael Johnston was a violent child. He threatened other kids at school, spent all his time playing violent, bloody video games instead of doing his homework, and had a collection of antique knives in his room."

"What, he couldn't get to these in time?" Abbie asked sarcastically.

Waters frowned. "Do you have evidence to support this theory?"

"Yes, Your Honor. Students and teachers can testify to his vicious behavior."

"Your Honor, Mr. Nolan wouldn't have concocted this scheme if you had suppressed the knife," Jack argued. "This defense isn't plausible."

"Would you like me to suppress the knife?" This quieted Jack. "As much as I don't want to, I have to accept it. Mr. Nolan, if you can't prove this defense to my satisfaction, I'll instruct the jury to ignore it completely. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

On their way out, Jack turned to Abbie. "Get back to the school. Talk to his friends, his teachers. I want to find the people who felt so threatened."

_oOoOo_

"Alex Haven." He shook hands with Abbie. "I was Michael's Drawing teacher."

"What kinds of things did Michael draw?"

"Well, his pictures aren't of grassy meadows and deer, but they aren't blood and gore, either. In-between, I guess you could say. Grassy meadows with gruesome monsters." The man laughed at his own joke. Abbie didn't. "Do you have any pictures, projects, anything he turned in recently?"

Haven went to his file cabinet, unlocking it, and searched through some folders. He pulled one out triumphantly. "Here's Michael's folder. I kept all of his works in it. He was a great artist."

_oOoOo_

Abbie stepped into Jack's office carrying a small box. "The last person I talked to was his art teacher. I went back to Michael's home to get these 'violent and bloody' video games." As Jack looked through the pictures, Abbie pulled out cases from the box. "Zelda, James Bond, Time Crisis… these aren't exactly like Doom."

Jack held up one of the drawings. It showed one man running away from another. He was holding a bag, and both men held guns, firing at each other. The second had a familiar hat on. "Criminal running away from a cop. Not exactly gruesome."

Abbie looked over everything again. There were other pictures, of samurais and depictions of various wars. The 'bad guys' were always wearing black. "Jack, this kid wasn't thinking about murder. In each of these games, you play a hero who saves the day. Each of these pictures shows the bad guy as evil, and again, he's the hero saving the day."

Jack smiled. "Maybe he wanted to be a cop."

_oOoOo_

"Dr. Rodgers," Jack began. "Can you describe the wounds inflicted on the victim, Michael Johnston?"

"He had several defensive wounds on his hands and arms, and his right lung was also… pierced."

"Can you define for the jury what a defensive wound is?"

The doctor turned to face more towards the jury. "Defensive wounds are smaller cuts, usually on the hands or arms. It suggests that there was a struggle between two or more people and one was cut."

"People's exhibit 1. Did this knife have the victim's blood on it?"

"Yes, and I found blood from another person."

"Did you find the person that matched the second DNA?"

"Yes. It was the defendant."

"Thank you. No further questions."

As Jack sat down, Larry stood. "Dr. Rodgers, you examined the knife personally?"

"Yes, I did."

"How much of the blood on the knife belonged to my client, as opposed to the victim?"

Dr. Rodgers just looked at him. "I'm afraid I don't understand the question."

"Of the blood on the knife, was there more of Mr. Franklin's or more of the victim?"

"I didn't clean the blade and measure the two blood samples against each other."

"Then take an educated guess."

She sighed. "After examining it, the blood matching Mr. Franklin's was more prominent than that of Mr. Johnston's."

"No more questions."

_oOoOo_

"He was a good kid," Jennifer said. "He wasn't aggressive. He never talked back to his teachers, never started any fights at school. He kept to himself."

"You say the victim never started any fights at school. Was he ever in any?" Jack asked.

"Yes. There was a time when he was walking home from school-"

"Objection." Larry stood. "This witness didn't know about the crime until the victim told her. It's hearsay."

"Approach." Waters put his hand over the microphone. "Go ahead."

"This fight happened outside of school, so the witness had no firsthand knowledge."

Waters turned to Jack. "Explain the circumstances that led to the fight."

"The victim was walking home from school when another child jumped him, threw him to the ground, and stole his wallet."

"The victim voluntarily gave it up, Your Honor," Larry corrected.

"He gave it up instead of being strangled!"

"Alright, I've heard enough. Use it in your closing, Mr. McCoy. Step back." The two lawyers did so. "The objection is sustained."

Jack paused for a moment. "No further questions."

Larry stood. "Did you witness any incidents between the victim and anyone else in the school?"

Jennifer nodded. "There was a time when Michael bumped into another kid. Both of their books dropped to the floor."

"What happened next?"

"He pushed Michael. Michael stood back, like he was ready to fight back, when a teacher intervened. He relaxed, and they went their separate ways."

"'Relaxed?'"

"…He'd stepped back with his hands up, like a karate position or something."

"Objection, speculation."

"Withdrawn. Thank you." This time, Larry sat down and Jack stood up. "Redirect." Waters nodded. "When did this incident happen?"

"A few months ago," Jennifer answered. "He'd run out of his class a couple of minutes after the bell rang, like he would be late."

"Objection, speculation."

"Sustained."

"How much time elapsed between the moment when Michael took this 'karate position' to when the teacher intervened?"

"I don't know… about, five seconds, I guess."

"Enough time for him to hit back?"

"Objection!"

"Withdrawn. Did either boy say anything?"

"Well, Michael apologized, but that's when the other kid pushed him."

"No more questions."

_oOoOo_

"Ms. Johnston, how was your son doing in school?" Jack asked.

"He was doing great. He got A's and B's on his report card, and these 'threats' that people are saying he said… it's just not my son. He was such a sweet, happy boy."

"What about the fights?"

"He told me about how he was attacked by another kid on the way home from school. I didn't know about the one in the hallway, but it doesn't sound like a fight to me."

"Objection. Your Honor, this is all hearsay."

"Sustained." Waters turned to Ms. Johnston. "Please testify about the things you actually saw with your own eyes."

"How tall was he?" Jack continued.

"About 4'9" "

"The defendant is 5'11". Do you think that a boy over a foot shorter than a grown man could really pose a threat to him?"

"Objection."

"Withdrawn." Jack went back to his table and picked up an evidence bag. "People's exhibit 3. This ring was found on the defendant at the time of his arrest. Do you recognize it?"

"Yes. It's my wedding ring."

"One last thing, Ms. Johnston. Did your son take any karate classes?"

"No."

"Thank you. No further questions."

Larry stood up. "You loved your son, didn't you, Mrs. Johnston?"

"Ms. And yes, with all of my heart."

"So you would do anything for him?"

"Of course."

"Even lie on the stand to make sure he looks innocent to the jury?"

"Objection!" Jack stood.

Larry continued, unfazed. "The weeping mother, making it look like she had the perfect child! Why should we believe you? You could just want to remember your son as a sweet, innocent boy, not the murderer he was! You want to just ignore the fact that he nearly killed a man, just like you ignored the signs that showed your son would be a killer!"

"No!"

"Your Honor!"

"Mr. Nolan!" Waters leaned directly over and stared into his face.

"Yes. Your Honor." He stepped up to the witness stand. Ms. Johnston was close to tears. Larry looked directly at her. "Did your son ever show any signs of violence? Even spending his time playing violent, bloody video games, he never even wrestled playfully with his brother?"

"Stop it…"

"Michael was always, what, a pacifist? Didn't play football, avoided fights?"

"Yes!" she cried out.

"Then why did you feel the need to let him have a set of knives in his room!"

"They were antiques. He was fascinated with…"

"With what, Mrs. Johnston?"

She looked down, covering her eyes with her hand. "Ninjas. But they were in a locked case, he never opened it!"

"But he had the key. And he fantasized about being a ninja! Did he pretend to swoop out of trees, throw stars and kill his enemies?"

"No!" she cried out again.

"How do you know that? It seems like you don't know everything about your son. You didn't know about the fight, did you?" There was a pause, and Larry stepped back. "By the way," he said casually. "Do you know the defendant, Peter Franklin?"

Ms. Johnston wiped her eyes. "He works at the convenience store where I buy my cigarettes. I've seen him a few times."

_oOoOo_

Adam was furious. "Who the hell's great idea was it to put this woman on the stand?"

Jack sighed. "Nobody knew about this little fantasy of his."

"He had a set of knives in his room! Did you think they were made of rubber?"

Abbie cut in. "This kid is twelve, Franklin is thirty-six. The jury has to be able to see through these lies."

"Yeah. They should."

"Adam, it's not like the kid sat there with one of those knives, waiting for someone to come through the door."

"Instead, he ran to the kitchen to get a serrated one."

"He didn't get the knife until Franklin came in. I'll make sure the jury knows he wasn't just waiting for someone to kill."

Adam sighed. "Good luck. You'll need it."

_oOoOo_

"How long had you known the victim, Mr. Haven?" Larry asked.

"Let's see… he started school in September, died in March… 6 months," Haven answered. "He was a student in my drawing class."

"How was he doing in your class?"

"We first started on history, covered the lives of some famous artists… he didn't do so well in that, usually got C's on the tests. When we started focusing on producing works, he made straight A's on every assignment. He was a great artist."

"Defense's exhibits A, B, and C." Larry handed Haven three pieces of paper. "Do you recognize these pictures?"

"Yes. They are three pictures Michael drew in my class."

"Would you describe them for the court?"

"The first one depicts the Civil War. A Union officer is stabbing a Confederate with a bayonet. The second is a cop chasing down a criminal, both shooting at each other. The third looks like an assassin sneaking up on his victim. The students write a short description along with the picture to explain it. Some of them need to." He gave a short laugh. Larry took the papers and gave them to the jury.

He then went to his briefcase and pulled out three more sheets. "Defense's exhibits D, E, and F. Are these the papers in question?"

"Yes they are."

"There is a part highlighted in each paper. Would you tell the court Mr. Johnston's 'inspiration' for these drawings?"

"The first is from his history class, the second because his uncle was a police officer, and the third is from a video game."

Larry took back the papers. "No further questions."

Jack stood. "Is that all Mr. Johnston drew? Scenes of blood and violence?"

"No. There were assignments to do self-portraits, drawing a household object, a nature scene, and others like that."

"Did he include violence in these pictures?"

"No."

"What about other pictures, without set models? Did they all include violence?"

"Some did, others didn't. There was one particular picture he drew of a school bus. The shading, details on the students, it was one of his best."

"And the bus wasn't… running over anyone? Being hijacked?"

"No, nothing of the sort."

"What about this picture?" Jack withdrew it from his briefcase. "People's exhibit 6. Can you describe the picture for the court?"

"It looks like a sword fight."

"What colors are each character wearing?"

"The person on the left is in some kind of jumpsuit, lightly shaded, so it would be white, or gray. The person on the right is darker, wearing a cape."

Like Larry, Jack gave the picture to the jury before continuing. "People's exhibit 7. This is the description of the picture. Would you read it to the court?"

"Let's see… 'A master swordsman spent the last years of his life training students. In this picture, the man in black has kidnapped the master, and one of his students has come to rescue him.'"

"So, is it fair to say this picture is a depiction of good versus evil?"

"Objection, speculation."

"No, Your Honor, I'll answer." Haven turned to Jack. "Stereotypically, white represents good, black evil. But it's misunderstood. In my class, I define black to be the absence of color, a symbol of neutrality."

Jack frowned. "Besides the students in your class, do you know of anyone else who feels this way about the color black?"

"Well, no. Most people I know do see it as evil…"

Jack did his best to steer the line of questioning back to where he needed. "The robber in his other picture is colored black?"

"Yes."

"What color is the assassin dressed in?"

"Black."

"The Confederate trooper is wearing a black hat, while the Union's is shaded lighter, correct?"

"Yes."

"No more questions." As he walked back, Jack couldn't help but hope that no one on the jury was a Florida native.

_oOoOo_

"Bradley, what is your relationship to the victim?" Larry asked.

Bradley answered, "I'm his brother."

"Did you have the same interests as him?"

"You mean video games? Yeah. Art didn't interest me, though."

"Did you like the same kind of games as your brother? Violence, blood, etc."

"Well… yeah."

Larry looked to the back of the room and motioned to an officer. He opened the door covering the public entrance of the courtroom. Another man, with slicked back hair; a full, ironed suit, even a black tie to match, entered wheeling in a television set. Something familiar was on a shelf connected to it.

Jack stood straight up. "Objection!"

Waters did as well. "In my chambers. Now."

_oOoOo_

Waters furiously entered his chambers with the lawyers behind him. The television was already in the room. "Why are we playing video games in my courtroom? What do you think this is, some kind of electronics store?"

Larry patiently answered, "Your Honor, the defense contests that Michael Johnston drew violent pictures, got into fights, played violent video games. We've proved the first two, and now I want a chance to prove the third."

Waters sighed impatiently. "And this is one of those games?"

"Yes, Your Honor." Larry turned on the television. The scene was shown in first-person, with the character holding a magnum revolver. The enemy was, unsurprisingly, dressed in black, even wearing black gloves. He had his hands in the air. As the Larry guided the 'hero' closer, the man said, "Please, don't shoot." He fired. The man screamed out and fell to the floor. Larry calmly turned off the television and looked back at the judge.

Jack tried to stop Larry. "Your Honor, this is highly prejudicial. There is a difference between playing a video game and attacking a real person with a knife."

"That's what my client is on trial for! I want to prove that instances like these provoked the victim to attack!"

"It's sad to think that my grandsons play these games." Waters sighed. "On its own, I'd rule that the game would not be seen by the jury. However… with the other evidence, I'm going to let it in."

_oOoOo_

Larry handed the controller to Bradley. His character was again holding a magnum in front of an unarmed man. "Please, approach him and fire your gun."

Bradley nodded, and pushed a button on the controller. As the character stepped forward, the man said, "I-I'm just doing my job." With the press of another button, the gun fired. The force of the blow pushed the man back as he screamed, "You bitch!"

"Now, would you look down at his body?"

Bradley pressed the appropriate button, and as the character was looking down, the jury could see a blood pool getting bigger around the body. Larry turned off the game. "And how often did your brother play these games?"

"Every day, if he could. More on the weekends."

"Thank you."

Jack stood up. "Mr. Johnston, do you play these games as well?"

"Yeah. I sorta got him into this one."

"Have you killed anyone yet?"

"Objection."

"Withdrawn. How long has your brother been playing these kinds of video games?"

"About… a year, year and a half. But, they weren't all that bloody."

"What about you?"

"A couple more years."

"Has your brother ever shown any signs of violent behavior? Any fascination with knives, matches, guns, that sort of thing?"

"Well, besides the knives in his room, no."

"What about you? Have you ever felt any urges to commit violence?"

"No."

"What kind of television shows did your brother watch?"

"Objection. The witness could not have been around his brother all of the time to watch every show with him."

"I'll rephrase. What shows did you and your brother watch?"

"Um… Pokemon, Gundam Wing, Naruto, cartoons and anime like that."

"Besides cartoons?"

"We watched some cop shows, trials, stuff like that," Bradley repeated. "He loved Cartoon Network and CourtTV."

"Did he ever talk about his favorite parts?"

"He always loved the ending, when they finally caught the bad guy."

"Caught or killed?"

"I think it was caught. His face lit up with that flash of handcuffs, and he'd memorized that thing that cops say when they're arresting somebody."

"A Miranda warning?"

"You know, 'you have the right to remain silent', that stuff."

_oOoOo_

Larry stood up, adjusting his suit jacket. "Mr. Franklin," he began, "can you describe what happened on March 2?"

"My rent was due and I was strapped for cash. I know the woman who lives at that house, so I thought I could go over and borrow some money. When I got to her house, there wasn't any car in the driveway. I figured I'd go in and leave a note. I walk in and there's this kid standing there, holding a knife."

"What happened next?"

"I didn't get time to explain why I was there. The kid charged at me. I had to defend myself." He turned towards the jury. "This kid had a creepy look on his face. If I hadn't stopped him, he would've killed me!"

"A creepy look?"

"It was like he didn't care who I was. He just wanted me to die."

"No more questions."

Jack stood up and shook his head. He was smiling. "How well did you know the victim's mother?"

"She'd been in my store before. We struck up a conversation. She invited me to her house."

"She bought cigarettes?"

"Yeah."

"Did she ever pay with a credit card?"

"Objection, how Mrs. Johnston paid for something at a store doesn't have any relevance on this case."

"It goes to credibility, Your Honor. I want to know if a woman who sees a clerk in a store once gives him her address."

Waters looked at Peter. "Did she?"

"…Well… no, but I could tell she was flirting with me. Certain way she said things, or the look in her eyes…"

"Then how did you find her address?"

"When you pay for drugs or alcohol, you have to show your driver's license. Her address was printed in big, bold letters; it was hard not to notice."

"So, after getting her address and going to her house, without her knowledge, you thought you would go in for a chat?"

"Like I said, I needed some money. I was hoping I could borrow some, I had no one else to turn to."

Before Jack could continue, Abbie managed to get his attention. "One moment, your honor." He walked back to the table and leaned down next to her. "At his arraignment, Nolan said Peter's parents lived in the city," Abbie whispered.

Jack nodded before standing up and straightening his suit jacket. He walked back over to the witness stand. "You say you had 'no one else to turn to'?

"That's right! Nobody could help me!" Larry exclaimed.

"What about your parents? Don't they live in the city?"

"I… well, my parents… they don't talk to me anymore. When I dropped out of college, they kicked me out of the house. Now if I asked, they wouldn't give me a dime. Hell, they're not even here today! But that's not the point! The point is I was desperate! I needed money! My landlord threatened to throw me out. I couldn't exactly live in my store."

"The door was locked. How did you get in?"

"I managed to open a window."

"Open it or break the glass?" Peter didn't answer, but Jack didn't need one. "Can you describe in detail what actually happened during this struggle?"

"That kid cut me in the arm with the knife, and I shot my gun in the air-"

"Objection. May we approach?"

"Come up." Again, Waters put his hand over the microphone as the two lawyers stepped up. "Go ahead, Mr. Nolan."

"Your Honor suppressed the gun. It can't be used at trial."

"Maybe you should have reminded your witness not to say anything," Jack answered. "Mr. Franklin was the person who brought it up."

"You wanted him to describe the struggle 'in detail'. You thought he wouldn't mention the gun?"

"Was I supposed to say, 'describe the struggle except for the gun which the jury isn't going to hear about'?"

"Okay, okay. Mr. McCoy is right. Your client is the one who brought up the gun, Mr. Nolan. Try to prep your witnesses better in the future. Mr. McCoy, rephrase the question." Waters leaned back in his chair before saying, "The objection is sustained."

"I'll rephrase," Jack said for the record. He walked over and picked up the knife that was among the other evidence. "During your struggle with the victim, what happened to this knife?"

"Like I said, he grabbed the knife. Then he ran at me and cut my arm. I grabbed the knife out of his hand and pushed him away, but he ran at me again. I had no choice but to kill him. He could've just grabbed another one from the sink and attacked me."

"Wait… I'm confused. Did he run at you to get this knife back or was he going into the kitchen to get a second one?"

"Uh… yeah, he was going into the kitchen."

"You say that the victim already had the knife in his hand when you first got to the kitchen. Is that correct?"

"Yeah."

"And when he ran at you, you were completely focused on getting that one away from him?"

"Yeah."

"So when did you notice that there were other knives in the sink?"

"…After I'd gotten the knife away from that kid."

"If you were facing the victim and the sink, that means the victim had his back to the sink. If he was stabbed in the chest before getting another knife, when was it that he turned and ran to the kitchen again?"

"…I guess he was running at me again."

"Was he running at you or to the kitchen? You can't have it both ways, Mr. Franklin!"

"He was running at me."

"So you felt it necessary to stab an unarmed child because he was running at you?"

"I thought he would kill me!"

"With what?"

"He could have easily knocked me down or something and gotten it back."

Jack paused for a moment. "While you were inside, did you ever happen to notice that the victim was over a foot shorter than you?"

"No…"

"So you were afraid that a child without any weapon, a foot shorter and twenty-four years younger than you, could push you onto the ground?"

"Hey, that kid was stronger than he looked. I had to fight just to get the knife from his hands."

Jack paused again, frowning. It seemed that the longer this went on, the more collected Peter became. "No more questions."

_oOoOo_

Larry stood, walked between the tables, and stopped in front of the jury. "I want all of you to close your eyes for a moment. Imagine that you're standing in front of a person who will stop at nothing to kill you. This person is holding a weapon and he or she is ready to lunge at you. Forget about the age, sex, race, height, any of that. It's just you and this other person.

"My client needed money, and yes, while there were other things he could've done to get it, he chose to reach out to a woman he thought could help him. Instead of finding a kind, friendly woman, he entered the house to find her son, holding a weapon. He ran at my client, ready to kill him! All of these little fantasies of his, he finally got to live them! He got to be the secret agent, the cop, the ninja, everything! All he had to do to be satisfied was kill my client! For the last two years, that's what he had learned.

"These thoughts of violence were constantly on Mr. Johnston's mind. When he was at home, he played bloody, explicit video games. When he was at school, he drew pictures depicting violence. He went to sleep at night looking at his collection of weapons! He finally found his opportunity to play a hero, and to do that, he had to kill a man. If it wasn't my client, it was bound to be someone else. Maybe even someone in his family. Maybe someone in yours." Satisfied, Larry sat down.

Jack stood, walked between the tables, but this time stopped in front of his. He pressed a button on a tape player sitting there.

"_911, what is your emergency?"_

"_Oh my God, someone's trying to break into my house!"_

"_Sir, please calm down. What is your name?"_

"_Michael… Michael Johnston… God, please send someone!"_

"_Sir, sir, how old are you?"_

"_Tw-twelve." _The sound of glass breaking echoed in the courtroom._ "He's inside, please, send-" _At this point, everyone in the courtroom heard Michael scream, and then there was silence. Michael's mother had tears in her eyes; she nearly screamed when he did.

"_Sir…? Michael?"_

The tape clicked and stopped. "Mr. Nolan wants you to believe this was a child consumed with violence. That he lived and breathed thinking about killing people. That his dreams consisted of the deaths of people he didn't like. Does this sound like a cold-blooded killer to you?

"Michael was scared. This man, Peter Franklin, broke into his house! Michael had been in dangerous situations before, but never facing an intruder inside his own home. So he ran away. The defendant followed him and confronted him in the kitchen, so he took a knife from the sink and held it in front of him. He wanted to protect himself. He had no escape; it was the only thing he could do. Even in other fights, he never threw the first punch. In the incident at his school, he never threw one at all. He never advanced on the other person. He never attacked.

"Mr. Nolan wants you to think that video games turned this child violent. When did it happen? Was the game Michael was playing that morning so twisted he felt compelled to kill the first person he saw? So twisted that he would run at a man who was over a foot taller than him? Okay, let's just stop children from playing video games. What about watching violence on television? Witnessing a mugging in the street? As a parent, yes, you want to shield your children from all of the evils in the world. But they will be exposed to violence, even murder, and more than likely before their teenage years. That doesn't mean your child is going to become a killer because of it. You can't wait until your son is twenty-three before letting him cut his own steak."

_oOoOo_

All twelve members of the jury walked back into the courtroom and to their appropriate seats. The forewoman handed a piece of paper to a guard, who then gave it to Judge Waters. He looked at it for a moment, then handed it back to her through the guard. "Madam Foreman, has the jury reached a verdict?"

"We have, Your Honor."

"Will the defendant please rise?" Both Peter and Larry stood. "As to the first count of the indictment, Armed Robbery, how do you find?"

"We find the defendant guilty."

"As to the second count of the indictment, Murder in the Second Degree, how do you find?"

"We find the defendant, Peter Franklin, not guilty by reason of self-defense."

Michael's mother cried out again. Her reaction was about the same as when she first found her son. Jonathan leaned over onto George's shoulder. He stroked Jonathan's arm affectionately. Peter turned and shook Larry's hand. They were both grinning. Jack just looked at Abbie, his brow furrowed.

_oOoOo_

"Eight and a third to ten for killing a kid." Adam took another drink of Scotch.

"I'll appeal," Jack said simply. "The judge shouldn't have let the video game in." This wasn't his first drink, either.

Abbie walked into the office. "Anyone watch the local news?" Both men shook their heads. "One of the jurors was interviewed. He insists that their decision had nothing to do with the games, they just felt Michael was a 'damaged' child."

"That's why I don't like the news," Adam said. "It's always depressing."


	3. Author's Note

Just a quick author's note:

I enlisted the help of a beta reader, temway. I just want to thank you. This story would not be half of what it is now without your help.


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